


A Contrived Escape

by Ladiladida



Category: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Escaping Hartfield, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Love, Married Life, Romance, jugglibg responsibilities, managing tempers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladiladida/pseuds/Ladiladida
Summary: Emma had never known anything other than managing Hartfield and her father’s temper. When juggling her father’s needs and married life start to take their toll, Mr Knightley and Mrs Western contrive a plot to give Emma some breathing space.
Relationships: George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Comments: 8
Kudos: 157





	A Contrived Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Just shameless fluff really.

It was a particularly beautiful day as far as summer days went. Truly perfect for what George Knightley had organised for he and his wife. The sun drenched all in its glow, heightening the colour of every leaf and petal. The faint scent of flowers lingered in the light, whispering summer breeze. 

They had taken up a spot some little distance from the abbey where they could sit quietly together and enjoy the day. Having passed a pleasant half hour together already, Emma, ever perceptive and so grateful for a change of scene from Hartfield, remarked on its execution to her husband. When he in turn told her how it all came about, Emma took it upon herself to playfully chide him.

“You have more of a calculating mind than I have perceived before, Mr Knightley.” Emma noted as they languished on a blanket that rested on the lush, green lawn. “To take such trouble to contrive this and to conspire with my second closest ally! I should be quite alarmed by the pair of you!”

“Indeed my dearest, it was quite a feat to abscond with you from Hartfield to here so soon after our return from the honeymoon.” Mr Knightley replied, enjoying this favoured old sport of there’s which seemed all the richer played out as man and wife. “I needed a conspirator and who better than Mrs Western? She being the only person other than myself who knows the inner workings of Hartfield.”

As he had relayed the planning of this smaller excursion to Emma, they had lain stretched out on the blanket together, out of sight. Her temple rested against his chest, listening to her husband’s words but also the rhythm of his heart. He had an arm about her, the hand of which played idly with one or two of her golden ringlets. His other hand held one of her own, fingers laced together, both resting on his stomach. To anyone observing, they were the picture of contentment.

Upon her mock alarm at his disclosure however, Emma had sat up so that she could take full opportunity of seeing the look in her husband’s face as they sparred.  
This delicious intimacy between them had been little able since the return from their honeymoon nearly a fortnight before. Mr Woodhouse had worried so intensely in their absence, coupled then by the departing of Mr John Knightley’s family after the return of the newlyweds. 

His need for Emma about him increased ten fold. Her comfort, reassurance and backgammon skills were relentlessly sought. Equally, Mr Knightley’s conversation and companionship in turns about the garden were regularly demanded when the latter was not about Highbury with estate duties. 

This meant that both Emma and Mr Knightley scarcely enjoyed time alone together except during night hours and even then, these were limited. Mr Woodhouse seemed reluctant to retire as early as he once did, keeping the pair about him with talk of this and that and seeking out new origins of chill drafts. 

This hypersensitivity, though well known to Emma, had started to take its toll. An expert on managing her father’s temper without ever giving him a cross word was a sign of her deep devotion to him, but it came at a cost. When it had been her only focus, Emma knew little else, but she was married now and she felt the strain. 

Mr Knightley found that she seemed unusually drained on a night time and not so content as a newly married woman should be. It became clear to Mr Knightley that Emma needed respite, even for a short time. Though there was little chance of them venturing far afield from Mr Woodhouse, there was one place that would be easily contrived.

This became a fully fledged plan when Mrs Western remarked on the eighth day of their return about Emma’s looks.  
“I know a devoted husband when he is before me, Mr Knightley. Must I suppose therefore that Emma’s being out of sorts lies in another quarter?”  
“Mr Woodhouse is pleased to have Emma returned to him. My residing here was never going to render his temper wholly resigned to the recent changes. But yes, his need of her is particularly acute at the moment.”

So they had conspired and it was agreed that in four days time Mr and Mrs Western would come and spend the afternoon at Hartfield to entertain Mr Woodhouse. Emma meanwhile, would be whisked off to Donwell Abbey for the afternoon where she and her husband could do as much, or as little as it pleased them. All that mattered was that they had time together with no one to please but themselves.

When the afternoon had arrived, bringing glorious weather with it, Emma found herself particularly cheerful. Married life was suiting her very well indeed, but an afternoon of having her husband all to herself away from Hartfield was too delectable. With Mr Woodhouse in animated conversation with the Westerns, he hardly noticed when the Knightleys bade their adieus. 

“So here we are, I have stolen away with you at last!” Mr Knightley said, sitting up, looking at Emma with that disarming gaze of his. “You look particularly lovely today, if I may say so.”  
Emma was gratified by this, though not vain about her appearance, she had strived to look particularly fetching for her husband today. Mr Knightley slipped an arm about her waist and she nuzzled closer to his side. For a moment, they sat quietly and surveyed the sun kissed land around them, the only sounds being the birds and breeze. It was like they were the only two people in the world and Emma was gratified and happy. 

As she leant against him, one of her hands rested on his thigh and she felt him lean to press a light kiss on the small amount of bare skinon her shoulder. A delicious tingling prickled from the spot where his lips had imprinted and it spread throughout her body in a familiar glowing heat. Indeed, married life suited her very well.

“Do you remember bringing us to Donwell for the strawberries?” Emma said turning to him, her lips deliberately nearer to his own though she acted as though kissing him was far from her thoughts.  
“How could I forget the less than subtle hints of Mrs Elton.” He replied ruefully, glancing at her lips.  
“That was a strange day.” Emma mused, her thumb stroked across his knee. “I was quite distracted.”  
“Well now I know it wasn’t in anticipation of Frank Churchill’s arrival.” Mr Knightley replied, “I do not deny I was a little unsettled myself.”  
“We were very foolish weren’t we? How could it not have been so obvious?”  
They both laughed lightly, foreheads resting together and they became absorbed by one another’s gaze. 

Mr Knightley brought a hand up to Emma’s cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin back and forth. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers, counting his blessings that he could. Emma sighed against his lips, and he felt her body relax more against him. A hand curled about his neck, fingers lightly grazing his blonde hair. It sent a flood of heat right through him, Emma had always had a strange power over him, but this was all consuming.

For Emma, this was entirely mutual, so enveloped was she by her love for and being loved by this wonderful man. How could these kisses, so familiar and available to her as Mrs Knightley still cause her heart to skip a beat? Had it not been many weeks, was urgency and longing not meant to recede to a contented appeasement? Emma had seen so many married couples who seemed contented, yes she was content, but she was restless too. Restless for a look, a touch and a kiss from this man that she adored. It made her blush to think about it and this was not missed by Mr Knightley as he drew back.

“Emma?” He asked. “You’ve a sudden flush of colour in your cheeks.”  
He said this with a knowing smile, though he was pretending utter ignorance.  
“Your powers of perception must be amiss, Mr Knightley, if you cannot account for it.”  
“I must confess Emma, I am tempted to continue and see if I can deepen the shade.”  
His lips moved first to press against hers but then turning his head slightly, he pressed several featherlight ones along her jawline and throat.

“George!” She found herself exclaiming, a mixture of surprise, encouragement and faux disapproval. Emma heard him laugh close to her ear.  
“I shall be wise, Emma.” He replied and pulled back a little, taking her hand once more and allowing both himself and Emma time to compose themselves again. 

Emma glanced at him from the corner of her eye, he was looking out across the rolling fields of his estate now. She was reminded of his sacrifice, seeing him thus and her hand touched his cheek. Turning back to her, she saw he was smiling, and she saw no regret there.  
“You are very handsome, my dear husband.” She said playfully again, “I do not know if I have told you this.”

Mr Knightley’s modesty causes him to look down at his lap and he chuckled.  
“You should not make light of a lady’s praise, Mr Knightley.” Emma reflected, “For when a gentlemen’s conduct is amiss, our former praise for them is the first thing we forget.”

These words amused him greatly and in another moment he had taken her face in his hands and was kissing her with all the passionate, sweetfullness she knew well. So caught up did they become in their kisses, they were quite starved for air when they parted. Yet Mr Knightley was still laughing, though his eyes were darker with desire.  
“Thank you my dearest Emma, I will take note of these words of good sense.”  
“Good.” She nodded, “And I in turn am very grateful for our little excursion today.”

Emma invited him to once more lay back on the blanket. She rested on her back and he propped himself up on an elbow beside her. Mr Knightley took another long look at his wife, now displaying much rosier cheeks and brighter eyes than on previous days and his heart swelled.  
“I am pleased you have enjoyed it.”  
“I am enjoying it, do not speak as if it is yet over. There is more before our return.”  
“Whatever the lady of the house demands.” Mr Knightley laughed, tracing her jawline with his index finger.  
“Then...” She said burrowing closer to him, allowing him to rest back and slip an arm about her once more. “Let us reside here for a while, then if you would be so good as to show me the rest of the Abbey. I believe there are some parts I am not yet acquainted with.”

Understanding her meaning, Mr Knightley kissed her again before adding.  
“The style of the contents will be new to you, for sure my dearest... but you are well acquainted with their purpose.”  
“Well i was told I am to be guided by my husband in all things, I am sure you will be kind enough to demonstrate.”  
“My dearest, Emma...” he was going to give another playful response, to keep this flirtation between them going. Yet somehow, in the knowledge of what he held here, he became quiet. Kissing her temple, he held her a little closer and he heard her sigh contentedly against him. 

It was true, at the ages of twenty two and thirty eight, married life suited them very well indeed.


End file.
